Pup (16 page)
changed in Tackett’s demeanor after discussing Micah’s fears. Going over and over the conversation, Micah tried his damnedest to figure out what the hell he may have said to cause the change. Tackett seemed neither upset with him nor happy. His features were completely neutral, unreadable when he excused himself, ordering Micah to stay put on the couch. When Tackett returned from the bedroom some fifteen minutes later, the same infuriatingly inscrutable expression was on the man’s face.
“You’re not to talk unless I ask you a direct question,” he’d said and threw Micah a T-shirt. He knew better than open his mouth. It had been an order, not a question. He silently slipped on the blue cotton shirt. The only other instruction he was given was “Slip your flip-flops on” as Tackett led him to the door by the arm.
The car ride had been maddening. Tackett’s eyes straight ahead, no radio, no talking, and thank fuck the ride had only lasted ten minutes, or Micah would have lost his ever-lovin’ mind, the way his stress had escalated with each minute he’d sat in that damn car. Freaked out, the ride in the black Mercedes CLS wasn’t as enjoyable as the last time he’d been in it. Being fucked in it hadn’t crossed Micah’s mind once this time. He’d have been happy if the man would have just fucking talked to him, smiled, something.
When they pulled into the lot of Vibes, he’d relaxed a little. The silent Dom obviously had a plan for a scene or another torture device like the maddening cage on his dick. Tackett’s arm around him as they entered the store had relaxed him further, excitement starting to burn in his belly.
The door clicked closed behind them, and two steps into the store, Tackett halted by saying, “Display, eyes down,” and walked away.
Micah snapped into position, tracking Tackett out of his peripheral vision as he moved to the sales counter. Dean was standing behind it. After shaking hands, they spoke, but no matter how hard Micah strained to hear what they were saying, it was an unintelligible murmur.
The longer he stood there, the excitement that had started to replace the tension seeped out of him. As if he were on a roller-coaster car as it slowly climbed the first big hill—click, click, click—his apprehension growing as it moved upward. Micah’s heart began pounding so hard in his chest, he could no longer make out their mumbled voices over the roar of his pulse in his ears.
Micah looked down at his feet, his legs shaking. Afraid he’d topple over, he locked his muscles, forcing himself to stand straighter, heaving chest pushed out hard. He played their conversation over and over in his head, but what produced the change in Tackett was still elusive.
Micah jumped when Tackett spoke and touched his shoulder briefly He looked up at his Dom. Luckily, Tackett had already turned around, and Micah lowered his eyes and followed Tackett to the back room and down a set of stairs. At the bottom, the small area was deep in shadow. The only light was from the single bulb hanging from the ceiling at the top of the stairs.
Micah focused on Tackett’s back, heard the jingle of keys and the heavy door pushed open. Micah hesitantly followed Tackett into the pitch-black room beyond, straining to make out something, and then blinked when a harsh overhead florescent was switched on.
“Strip.” Tackett’s voice was like the crack of the whip, and a tremor tickled its way down Micah’s spine.
Micah took in the room as he pulled off his T-shirt and unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. Against the far wall was a large wooden St. Andrew’s Cross wrapped in leather. Chains hung from the ceiling, the walls, and were hooked to a large wooden table to his right and to a leather spanking bench. Multiple devices covered the walls: whips, paddles, crops, canes, and floggers. Shiny things, leather things, wooden things, so many he gorged himself on all the delights of the room but couldn’t take them all in. When he thought he’d burst from the overload, his eyes continued to dart around the room, taking in more and more.
Micah stepped out of his flip-flops and pushed down his jeans, clenching his ass when the heavy plug began to move, and stood stiffly in his display position.
That nervous click, click car moving upward stopped at the apex of the hill.
Wheeeeeee!
Micah rushed down the hill, the excitement a major rush that stole his breath. Apprehension, fear of the unknown, lust, desire, and need mingled, making his gut flip like the first loop-the-loop on the roller-coaster ride.
This room, in Micah’s opinion, was better than an amusement park. The ride he was about to go on, or at least he hoped he was, would take him to emotional places far surpassing any roller coaster.
“Eyes down, boy,” Tackett demanded when he stepped in front of him. Micah instantly complied, his gaze settling on Tackett’s large hand rubbing across the bulge in his pants. Oh, fuck yes! The gorgeous cock behind the denim fabric could distract him from the room. It and the man it was attached to were easily the best things in the room.
“Yes, please, Sir,” he moaned when his dick twitched in its metal prison, quickly adding, “If it pleases you, Sir.”
Rub. Rub. Rub. The movement of Tackett’s hand kept his focus right there, making his fingers itch with the desire to reach out and touch that impressive, swollen cock.
“The things I’m going to do to your body are going to please me very much, boy.” Tackett’s free hand hovered over the skin of Micah’s breastbone, close enough to feel the heat of Tackett’s flesh, but not close enough to feel his touch. “Whether you get to cum or not has no bearing on my pleasure, only yours.”
Micah pushed his chest out, wanting to feel Tackett’s hand on him, but the man anticipated his movement, stepped back, and lowered his hand. Micah bit down on his whimper of protest.
Tackett moved out of Micah’s vision range. Micah didn’t dare lift his eyes or turn his head. He was bound and determined to please his Dom and cum. Tackett’s footsteps were deliberate and measured as he moved around the room behind Micah before walking past him with a straight-backed wooden chair. Micah watched through lowered lashes as Tackett set the chair against the wall directly in front of Micah and then began adjusting the chains that were attached at the bottom and top, but it was Tackett’s now-naked torso that demanded his gaze. The thick, bulging muscles of Tackett’s back and arms as he worked, meshing with the clinking of chains, ramped up Micah’s excitement. Fuck, he loved the feel of heavy chains and shackles wrapped around his flesh almost as much as he loved the feel of Tackett’s body around him. The sound they made was so goddamn sexy.
Once Tackett was satisfied with his adjustments to the restraints, he stood next to the chair. “Have a seat, pup.”
“Ye—” That wasn’t a question, and he snapped his mouth closed and moved across the room.
Thank you, sweet baby Jesus
, Micah silently hailed the opportunity to sit. The effort it took to hold in the plug was causing his ass cheeks to cramp. With his hands behind his back, he discreetly moved them down to hold the plug in place as he walked, giving him a chance to relax the death grip his clenched cheeks had on the toy.
Micah carefully sat on the hard wooden surface, gasped when the plug nudged his prostate, and shifted to a position that wouldn’t have him losing his sanity.
Silently, Tackett attached the metal cuffs to Micah’s wrists, positioning his arms to hang at Micah’s sides. He attached a second pair of cuffs to Micah’s ankles, and then moved to adjust the chains.
Micah’s arms were slowly lifted, the sound of the chains moving through a pulley, the clank of the links echoing off the walls of the dungeon. As pleasing as the sound was to Micah’s ears, it unsettled Micah how little Tackett was speaking. It was that mix of equal pleasure and discomfort that had his pulse speeding. Micah’s arms stretched parallel to the floor, knees slightly parted; Tackett secured the chains and picked up a basket from the floor.
Micah’s eyes went wide, then nearly rolled back in his head when Tackett set the basket on Micah’s lap before walking away. Micah got a glimpse of the hundreds of small plastic clothespins inside. When Tackett returned, he had a roll of string in his hand, which he set next to him when he went to his knees in front of Micah.
Picking up a clothespin, Tackett opened and closed it a few times, testing before attaching it to Micah’s skin next to the left shackle. The pinch was brief, not necessarily painful. He watched Tackett with interest when he retrieved a second clothespin from the basket and attached it next to the first.
“When I touch you, pup,” Tackett said softly, retrieving yet another clamp, “I need you to clear your mind of everything but me.” He added the third one.
Tackett didn’t speak again until he’d added more. “Whether my touch is for pleasure or for pain, in that moment it’s the only thing that exists in your world.” Micah gritted his teeth when Tackett added one to the sensitive skin of his bicep near his armpit. “Nothing else matters to you but my touch,” he said quietly.
The initial pinch of the first clothespin hadn’t been painful, but as Tackett continued to add more, moving across Micah’s chest, attaching them side by side, the pinch began to turn into an intensifying sting. The longer they were on his skin, the more irritated his nerve endings became, and they protested harder and harder as the minutes passed.
“You crave my touch, boy,” Tackett continued. “Painful as it may be.” Tackett added another clamp to the sensitive spot near his other armpit.
And, oh God, was it painful. He wanted it, wanted everything Tackett gave him, but it still caused Micah to clench his jaw to keep from crying out. He was forced to take deep breaths through his nose, afraid he’d beg Tackett to stop if he opened his mouth.
“Your comfort doesn’t matter, boy, nor your pain or pleasure. Each one of these is an extension of my touch.” Tackett added two more in quick succession. “When I touch you it’s because when I touch you, it’s for my pleasure, not yours.” He added more, working his way down to Micah’s wrist.
Tackett took the basket from Micah’s lap and set it aside. “How does my touch feel, pup?” Tackett asked, picking up the roll of string he’d set down earlier.
Micah’s body shook so hard, the chains rattled as he attempted to process the pain, rise above it, but he was held in its unforgiving grip. Tackett threaded the string through a hole on the tip of the clothespin he’d attached near his wrist. Tears began to well up in Micah’s eyes, and he did his best to blink them away as the pain flared. The word “turtle” was on Micah’s tongue as Tackett continued to thread the string through each clamp.
Turkey
, his mind screamed. He could stop this, force Tackett to remove the clamps. But he couldn’t unclench his jaw to form the word, couldn’t fucking breathe, nor could he stop the tears that were streaming down his face.
Just when Micah thought he couldn’t possibly stand the pain for one more second, a warm hand rubbed at his stomach, so soft, so calming. It helped him step back from the edge of agony enough to take in a small breath.
“Look at you, pup. You’re so beautiful, the flush of your skin from my touch so sexy.”
The praise from his Master pulled a relieved sob from Micah. He’d done it; he’d pleased Tackett. Micah would do anything to hear the praise in Tackett’s voice, to see the pleased look in the man’s eyes, endure anything for his touch.
“Such a good boy.” Tackett’s voice was low and soothing as he produced a key from his pocket and unlocked the cage around Micah’s cock.
The shock of the cage being pulled away caused Micah to gasp. He’d wanted the maddening thing off, and yet he felt its loss deep in his gut. Strange, that. It had become a reminder he’d displeased his Dom, yet without it, it was as if he’d lost Tackett’s touch.
Tackett tossed the cage aside and picked up the string that was now attached to the thirty or so pins— Micah’d lost count—and tied the two ends together, the string just taut enough to add another level to the pain, but Micah didn’t react to it, still trying to come to terms with his conflicting feelings about the loss of the cage.
Micah’s eyes darted to the clamps, the bright red skin, and the white string as it swayed from his heaving chest, to the cage discarded on the floor, an uneasy feeling settling into his core. The only thing keeping him grounded, keeping the panic below the surface, was Tackett’s burning touch from wrist to wrist. It was okay, the cage was gone, but he still had Tackett’s touch, he reminded himself, swallowing the bile that threatened to push up out of his throat.
Tackett’s hazel gaze. He pushed into Tackett’s hand when he gently stroked his knuckles gently down Micah’s cheek.
“Ye… yes, Sir,” he said, his voice catching on a sob. “Only your touch.”
“When I touch you, I demand your focus, I deserve your attention. Do you understand?”
Micah nodded. “You have it, Sir, and you so deserve it.”
“When I touch you, I own you, body and mind. I want you to always remember that, boy.” Tackett tugged slightly on the string, the pain causing Micah to tense further, tighten the fists he’d made until they were whiteknuckled and aching. “Don’t ever forget, pup. If I no longer desire to touch you, the loss will be the most excruciatingly painful thing you will ever experience.” In one deft movement, Tackett rose to his feet, took a step back, and jerked the string.
A scream was ripped from Micah, the sound shrill, echoing off the walls of the dungeon, the force of it shredding his throat. The all-consuming agony demanded his voice, and he gave himself over to it. Micah wasn’t sure where he went, deeper into himself or beyond the concrete walls, but he was aware he’d returned when the shackles fell away and strong, warm arms surrounded him.
“Shh, it’s okay, pup. I’ve got you.” Tackett’s voice was comforting, low. “I’ve got you, pup, it’s all over, let it go.”
Micah could only sob and cling to Tackett, letting his grief pour out of him with each teardrop.
“I know, I know, shhh. I’m touching you. It’s not gone.” Tackett petted his hair, rocked him, kissed his wet cheeks, touching him.
Still Micah cried. The pain was real and acute across his flesh, but it was the threat of Tackett never touching him again, denying him what he needed above everything else, that wouldn’t let him go.
“Okay, pup, I got you.”
Tackett held Micah against him, and lowered them both to the floor, covering him, enveloping Micah in his heat and touch, and it felt so damn good that Tackett was touching him. The scrape of his chest hairs against his inflamed skin didn’t matter as long as Tackett kept touching him, pressing against him.
“Tell me what you need, pup.”
“Y-you, Sir,” he stuttered in between sobbing breaths. He dug his nails into Tackett’s flesh, trying to get him to hold him tighter, prevent him from moving away. “Just you, Sir. Please.”
“You’ve got me.” Tackett pressed his lips to Micah’s forehead, his eyelids, peppering Micah’s entire face with kisses. “Please what, pup?”
“Just keep touching me,” he pleaded. Micah chased those lips, needing to feel them against his, more of the tension seeping out of him when Tackett gave them. Tackett didn’t deepen the kiss, their lips barely touching, letting Micah feel his breath, take it into himself.
“I promise I’ll focus, just keep touching me.” Another small wounded sound escaped him. “I promise.”
“I know you’ll try, and I’ll help you get there. You’re mine, pup, I’ll always help you.”
They rocked together. Tackett roamed his hands over Micah’s arms, shoulders, and chest as Tackett continued to kiss and lick along Micah’s face, jaw, and neck until his grief melted away. Left behind was only Tackett. His cock began to fill, and for the first time since the cage had been put on, he didn’t fight it. The pleasurable sensation of his cock rubbing along Tackett’s stomach merged and mingled with the throbbing pain along the flesh of his arms and chest, intensifying his lust and need. Micah released the death grip he had on Tackett, moving his hands down the thick muscles surrounding his spine, to the top of Tackett’s ass, encouraging him to rock harder.
“Need you, Sir. Only you.” Micah thrust upward, pushing down hard on Tackett’s ass. “Please.”
Tackett started to pull away.
“No! I’m so—”
“Shh. I’m not going anywhere, pup. I promised if you were good you would get to cum.” Tackett smiled down at him. “You want my hand, my mouth—”
“Want you to fuck me, Sir. Need to feel you inside and out.”
Tackett’s smile grew, and he popped the button on his pants and eased the zipper down. “Good choice, pup,” Tackett said, a little growl in his voice that Micah felt all the way down to his toes.
“Thank you, Sir,” he responded breathlessly, body shaking in anticipation. “Hurry,” he moaned, needing Tackett’s hands back on him, his body against his.
Tackett went to his knees, pulling a condom from his pocket before shoving his pants down his thighs. “Lucky for you, your ass is ready for me, boy.”
Micah whimpered as Tackett took his impressive erection in his hand and rolled a condom down his length. “God, so ready for you, Sir. Want….” The words caught in his throat when Tackett grabbed the base of the plug.
“Pull your legs up and bear down.”
Micah spread his knees wide, a hand around each thigh, and lifted, exposing himself wantonly and bearing down when Tackett eased the plug out of his ass. Tackett didn’t leave him empty for long, lining up his sheathed cock and pushing into him. They both moaned when Tackett pushed deep.
“Thank you. Oh God, thank you, Sir.” Micah’s relief was so profound a sob escaped him.
Tackett wasted no time teasing him. He pulled back only an inch or so before plunging back into Micah, setting a hard and fast rhythm. “Fuck, yes! Love how your ass grips my cock, boy.”
With Tackett’s hands on the floor at Micah’s sides, he was nearly bent in half, his legs draped over Tackett’s arms. With his hands free to roam, to touch, Micah grabbed Tackett’s face in his palms and pulled him down for a kiss. Tackett shoved his tongue deep, letting Micah suck on the thick muscle, savoring the man’s flavor.
The clash of teeth and lips turned into a sloppy kiss as Tackett continued to piston in and out of him. Micah slid his hand back, fingers curling in the thick hair at the back of Tackett’s head, keeping the delicious mouth close. “Harder, Sir, please!”
Tackett pulled nearly all the way out, then slammed back in. Over and over, Tackett plowed into him, his hazel eyes locked with Micah’s as they moved together, closer and closer to bliss.
“Love your cock, Sir. So big. Fuck!” He was babbling, disjointed words pushed out of him with each slam of Tackett’s thrusting cock. His leaking prick throbbing and jerking against his stomach, he needed to cum, could feel the pressure building in his sac. Micah was teetering on the edge, barely holding on by his fingertips.
“Jesus!” Tackett growled, his thrusts becoming jerky, hips losing their rhythm. “Cum for me, pup,” Tackett demanded with his voice and body. “Cum for me right fucking now!” he roared and buried himself balls-deep, arching hard.
And Micah did. Without so much as a whisper touch to his cock, he came, shooting pulse after pulse of seed across his stomach and chest, cumming so hard, he saw stars as he screamed Tackett’s name to the ceiling, flying.